


Through His Eyes

by ImpassionedWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel is the master of control, Dean doesn't understand his own feels, Dean is too curious for his own good, Drunk Make-out Session, I am building up to smut, M/M, Photographer Castiel, Slow Burn, This story would be so simple if they would just COMMUNICATE, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top!Cas, Unrequited Love, Young Sam ships it, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpassionedWriter/pseuds/ImpassionedWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel have been best friends since childhood and they now share an apartment together to cut costs while attending college. Dean stumbles across Cas' laptop-diary and discovers a side to him he never knew.<br/>[On hold due to writer's block- I throw myself on the mercy of the fandom]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ethics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> Dean Winchester had been living with his childhood best friend, Castiel, for five months now.
> 
> After graduating high school, both boys decided that renting an apartment together was the best way to pool their resources and get the biggest place. They were lucky enough to be accepted into the same college; although their schedules were so different it was like someone planned for them to always miss each other. Still, life was going well for both of them.
> 
> Until the day Dean was instructed to stay after class by his literary professor. That was the catalyst that set in motion a chain of events that would forever change the lifelong friendship of these two boys.

Dean stood awkwardly beside the desk of his least favorite teacher, Mr. Alistaire, and shuffled his weight from one foot to the other while they waited for the classroom to empty.

Just a few moments ago, the young Winchester's good mood had vanished at the sharp order to stay behind.

His left hand was clenched around the strap of his deceptively heavy backpack, dreading what was coming next. This wouldn't be the first time the honey-haired boy was reprimanded for causing a ruckus among the students in an attempt to be class clown.

When the last student had gone, the taller man turned to Dean and cleared his throat. He wore a dark grey suit that boasted sophistication, and had startlingly white hair that seemed early for his age. His face was always void of emotion and didn't appear to have ever shown a kind expression.

When the teacher spoke, his tone was equally mocking and serious. "Mister Winchester," He said, "Since the beginning of the year, I have received less than half of the assignments I've given you."

"My dog ate them."

"I'm sorry to say you'll be failing this class." Instantly, Dean's mouth snapped shut and all traces of humor dried up.

He was stunned and stared at his teacher with incomprehension. This couldn't happen. He couldn't afford to fail a single one of his classes.

Silver eyes flashed over the student's face and gleamed with sick satisfaction. "However, if you can write an original ten page essay on the etiquette of basic human interaction, I will count it as the extra credit you need in order to pass."

Dean blinked and repeated in his head, _Ten page essay on etiquette_. His fear turned to relief, before becoming distaste.

"It's your intention to torture me, isn't it?" He almost sneered, a trace of sarcasm coloring his voice.

The older man shook his head, "You have no idea what torture is; I'm giving you a _lifeline_ here. Be gracious about it or I'll fail you right now." Dean frowned, registering the resolve in the professor's tone as he went on, "If you skip all the wild parties and actually work on this tonight, I'm sure you'll have a decent essay for me by tomorrow morning."

Dean cringed and tried to hold back his anger. It was his own fault for thinking he could coast through this class without having to make up for the homework he skipped.

But, this teacher appeared to take pleasure in twisting his students like clay.

"Fine." Dean could play this game. And he would win. No problem.

 

...oOo...

 

When the exhausted Winchester finally arrived at his shared apartment he dropped the over-stuffed backpack on the floor gratefully and kicked off his shoes, leaving them laying by the door, having forgotten about the essay.

"Cas, I'm back." He called, heading to the kitchen and throwing a glance around to locate his roommate.

A pair of long, familiar legs was slung over the arm of the couch. The black haired nineteen-year-old that was Dean's oldest and dearest friend raised himself up out of his lounging position at the sound of the other's voice. "Hey," He answered, not looking away from the TV show he was watching.

Dean threw open the refrigerator door looking for a snack and shut it with a little more force than necessary when he didn't find anything but Castiel's vegan oddities.

He left the kitchen, vowing to accompany Cas on the next shopping trip to ensure himself something edible, and climbed over the back of the couch to sit beside his best friend. "Anything good on?"

"Not really. It's a show about magicians robbing banks. It's not bad, but..." The other boy trailed off, staring at the screen intently.

Dean glanced at Cas' deep blue eyes and smiled to himself. Even when he was a kid, that guy had the most powerful gaze of anyone Dean had ever met. It could make you feel like the only person in a room; extremely reassuring or very awkward depending on the situation. Dean had experienced both scenarios numerous times.

They remained there for an hour and a half, contentedly watching TV like mindless robots, until Castiel abruptly stood up and walked across the room to grab his wallet and Dean's keys from the shelf near the door. "I'm going to the library to research for a quiz. Wanna tag along and study up?" He asked, casually leaning against the door while waiting for an answer.

Dean shook his head, "Nah, man, I'm good. Treat my baby nice."

There was no one in the entire world Dean would let borrow his car, except for Castiel.

Maybe Dean's younger brother Sam if it was an emergency. _Maybe_. But Cas had been there when Dean bought his beloved Impala and he understood the importance of Dean's 'baby'. Therefore, he was the only one Dean would trust with it.

"Okay, be back in a couple of hours then." The brunette said, pulling his jacket on. He left Dean so absorbed in the movie that was playing that he didn't even hear the door shut.

*

It was twenty minutes later, when the movie ended, that Dean realized with repulsion he still needed to write that extra credit essay.

"Dammit!" He swore, mentally kicking himself for not going with Cas to the library. He always used their computers when typing up something with that many pages.

Cas, for some reason beyond Dean's understanding, preferred the authentic experience of doing homework by hand.

...Which meant...

Dean flicked a glance to the front door and swallowed in deliberation.

Castiel sometimes left his laptop at home when he went out.

It served the purpose of a desktop computer but was chosen over one because he could take it somewhere if he was required to do so. The teenager was unbelievably more possessive over it than Dean was about the Impala. Never had he let the older Winchester use it for any reason. _Go to the library and use their computers,_ He would say.

But without any means of transport- and really, how ridiculous would it be if Dean made him come back just to pick him up- the only other choice was to borrow it without Cas' permission... or knowledge.

Seriously, he had Dean's car, it was the least he could do to repay the kindness.

With this justification, Dean leapt off the couch and went into the other boy's room. He spotted the desired object on the desk immediately and slid it off, cradling the computer gently. If he left even one mark Cas would throw a fit.

He retreated into his own room and plopped down cross-legged on the bed, opening the laptop like it was a treasure chest full of gold. His green eyes twinkled mischievously, then narrowed. "Password protected. Distrustful bastard..." He says aloud, biting his lip.

What could the password be? He thought for a few minutes before trying Cas' last name, 'Novak'.

 

_Incorrect._

 

Oh, but there was a hint that popped up! It read simply 'Apartment'.

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together and entered their apartment number. _Incorrect._

He tried the street address. _Incorrect_.

He tried 'home'. _Incorrect_.

Then, in a desperate reach, he typed in the number of rooms, how many months they'd lived there, and finally the date they signed the lease.

 

_Welcome, Castiel._

 

The date... Well, huh. The older Winchester decided it made sense for Cas to choose that since it was his first place after moving out of his overbearing parent's home. But technically it was *theirs* not *his*. Oh well, despite growing up together he would never understand how Castiel's mind worked.

He scanned the desktop for Word or Notepad; any program he could use to write his essay. In the upper right corner of the screen he saw something that made him stop.

A folder titled **Dean**.

Lifting an eyebrow, he clicked it and was stunned by what he saw. He opened the first thumbnail and rubbed his hand over the lower half of his face. "Son of a bitch..." He muttered under his breath, eyes widening at the sight of his own sleeping form bathed in the light of sunrise.

Why did Cas have this?

Picture-Dean still had traces of the beard he tried to grow right before graduation. And a bruise under his left eye from where Sam head-butted him when he taught the little twerp to use their dad's gas grill. Half of his body was covered with a tangled sheet, the other half exposed; he wore only boxers and an old grey tank-top.

The confused blonde clicked through the immense collection of pictures, remembering some but shocked to find that most were candid shots. A ton of memories were captured and displayed throughout. Dean grinning up at the camera, showing off his first tattoo. Dean flashing the peace sign during a game of volleyball at a neighborhood cook-out. Dean standing in the living room, laughing openly and wearing nothing but a towel.

That was only two weeks ago...

He vaguely remembered walking through to find the T-shirt he'd thrown out of an overnight bag the previous day and paused to retort a sarcastic comment from his roommate. He'd seen the camera in the other's hands but the flash hadn't gone off so he had no idea Cas took a picture.

A whirlwind of confusion rampaged through the young man's mind. What was the reason for this? Sure, Cas liked to take photographs but it was only a hobby. And his specialty were landscapes. ...So why have an entire folder dedicated to Dean? He wasn't even a good model. Not that he was asked to pose for most of these.

Closing the folder, Dean stared blankly ahead and turned his attention inward.

He shouldn't have seen this. Guilt started to bubble up even though he hadn't meant to snoop. It was an accident that he happened across it!

He was most likely freaking out over something innocent. But for some reason it felt almost as if he had uncovered one of Castiel's secrets. Strange how flattered he felt even though it probably meant nothing.

What else did his childhood friend have hidden away on here?

Knowing that he was too nosy for his own good sometimes, Dean let a smile creep across his face as he opened the Recent Documents file and read the long list that came up. A lot of Word docs were created within the last few days. Unable to stop himself, he randomly clicked one and made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a gasp when he read it.

 

_Diary,_

_Today was boring and maddeningly slow. That is, until I was set free from my college classes due to one of the teachers passing out (I hope she's okay) and returned home to find Dean resting on the couch. He had his legs splayed open and one hand propping up his head, looking totally relaxed. I wonder if he knows how much I envy him the ability to wind down at will. Even now, my mind is racing with concerns over the upcoming 'surprise' quiz. Hardly a surprise when the teachers force a re-cap of all the information we've studied 'out of the blue'. I am aware that these things require planning, but if they are going to give it away why not advise the students outright? Those dumb enough not to study up will not stand a chance of passing. ...Although, they don't deserve to pass anyway. I don't understand how these kids can be so cavalier with their education. Probably, their parents are the ones shelling out the tuition money. But if my own parents weren't bent on my getting a degree, I wouldn't even be here. I wish I could travel. And paint. And photograph. Read poetry. All the creative things that restore my faith in humanity's more hidden, fulfilled side._

 

More insight than usual, but all things Dean had heard before.

He opened another that was saved as 'School Sucks'. Maybe Castiel was so quiet because he channeled his frustrations into this secret cyber diary?

 

_Diary,_

_Jason tried to feel me up again after class. As if the mumbling of Mr. Eddison wasn't enough to put me in a foul mood, when I was leaving the classroom Jason pretended to forget something and turned around. I was right behind him and when he stopped so suddenly, I bumped into him. That was when he put his hand up; but because of my position he groped my thigh instead of my dick. HE'S a dick. I swear if he doesn't stop already I'm going punch him in the face. Wouldn't that cause a scene. I want to laugh just thinking of the looks everyone would make._

 

Dean's face darkened with a scowl. Jason... Who the hell is this Jason?

He would have to nonchalantly get Cas to bring it up so he could offer his help like he always did when someone was being a prick. Of course, that rarely happened in high school because they shared so many classes and everyone knew better than to mess with Dean's best friend. But there was always the one ass-hat that ignored the rules and stirred up trouble. Once the protective football player heard about it, though, all bothersome activity was stopped.

He continued to read, skimming over the rants and looking for any information he wasn't already aware of; like the existence of Jason.

 

_Diary,_

_I want a cat. I just do. They are so fluffy, and cute, and arrogant, and just so cock-sure of themselves it's adorable. I think Dean's spirit animal must surely be a cat of some sort. Like a Tiger... That would explain his confidence, and why people are so drawn to him. Also why his favorite song is 'Eye is of the Tiger'. Everyone likes cats. Even dog people must, secretly._

_Diary,_

_What is wrong with people? I got pushed in the hallway today by some guy and when he walked away I heard him say 'gay'. It might just be me, but people like him shouldn't be created. What is the reason for God to design such people? Is it another obstacle that we must overcome in order to be stronger? Because I think that's bullshit. Ignorance is popular among hypocrites. I'll bet if that guy's brother came out of the closet he'd be the first one to congratulate him for having the courage to be himself. Stupid grey areas in a black and white world. Not enough people acknowledge the grey._

_Diary,_

_When I got home a few minutes ago, Dean was lifting hand weights in the living room to some oldies rock song. I can't even tell what the lyrics of the song are because I can hear him grunting right now while he's working out and that's the only thing I can focus on. Even while I'm writing this I keep pushing the wrong keys, I'll have to proofread this later when my head is clear. Or not. I keep picturing him the way I saw him when I got home. Tank top clinging to his body, drops of sweat sliding down his tan skin. FUCK. Why is he so hot? MY best friend. Dean freaking Winchester. Thank God._

 

...What?

Dean re-read that twice. Castiel thought he was hot? Okay, that was fine. Goodness knows there was no shame in appreciating another man's attractiveness; even Dean had to admit he'd looked sideways at a few guys before. And he was confidently aware of his own hotness, so it was natural that his best friend recognize it, too.

The only slightly off-putting question was: Why was Cas raving about him like some teenage girl?

An unknown feeling started to swirl in his chest and the blonde quickly closed the open files and snapped the laptop shut. His breaths were coming quicker than before and calmness had been replaced by bewilderment.

An entire folder dedicated to shots of him going about life. A diary entry gushing about his attractiveness. This couldn't possibly mean anything; could it?

No... Not Cas. Not his best friend.

He didn't want to think of Castiel thinking of him that way, he didn't want to mess things up. Life was so perfect right now.

Dean carried the computer back to Cas' room and pulled out his notebook to write the essay.

All of these words in his head and not a single one he would be willing to share with his teacher.

"Focus, Winchester." He said, dragging a hand through his hair and banishing the storm of unnamed emotions to the back of his mind. Cas did have one thing right, Dean could wind himself down at will. A gift he was very grateful for at this moment. Silently, he quoted his roommate. _Thank God._

Easing into a less tense position on the couch, he tapped the pencil against his mouth. What was the topic again?

 

*

Dean is pretty sure he's successfully completed an essay worthy of some sort of prize- if only because he's written it in record time- when Castiel returns, shutting the door half-heartedly. Dean's eyes follow his roommate as he trudges across the room and lays car keys down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He taps the blonde's legs with a light hand and Dean obliges the unspoken request by sliding his feet onto the floor so the brunette can sit down.

Reading Castiel's exhausted look, he asks, "You okay?"

Castiel half-shrugs and answers, "Yeah. But it took me ages to find the right book because someone shelved it wrong. And even then I couldn't concentrate, so I may end up not scoring well tomorrow."

Dean rolls his eyes at his roommate's insecurity and pats him on the shoulder with a good amount of force. "Don't worry, you don't even need to study. I've seen you pass tests with flying colors even without the nerd moments."

"As I recall, that was mostly your fault."

"Someone needs to tell you when to loosen up."

"Yeah, loosen up my insides with Vodka."

Dean barked with laughter and stood, slapping Cas' knee as he moved past him. "Good times... I'm calling it a night. One of my teachers is expecting my pride on a platter before the early bird." He purposefully doesn't mention borrowing the laptop.

"Goodnight." The other teenager murmured, taking the oppertunity to change the channel. Dean could hear the familiar sound of a Tim Burton movie coming from the television as he exited the living room. He drifted to sleep with muffled dialogue acting as a lullaby through the bedroom door.

 

The oldest Winchester roused again at four AM, thinking Castiel must have fallen asleep with the TV on, when he heard the noise cut short and quiet footsteps faded into the other bedroom.

Gratefully, he let his conciousness be taken by dreams of sunlight and the glimmer of a camera lens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *After Story Comments with ImpassionedWriter~
> 
> Me: "So what do you think is the deal with Castiel's secret trove of photos?"  
> Dean: "I have no idea."  
> Me: "Oh, I think you do."  
> Dean: "...No, I don't."  
> Me: "You just don't want to admit that you do- Hey, wait! Get back here! I'm not finished!"  
> Dean: "I *am* finished."  
> Me: *Shouting* "HOW DO YOU THINK YOU DID ON THE ESSAY?"  
> Dean: *Still walking away* "I wrote what he wanted to hear me say. So I'm pretty sure I'm passing that class."  
> Me: *Ominous voice* "We'll see..."  
> Dean: *Stops and looks back at me* "..."  
> Castiel: *Shows up* "What's going on here?"  
> Dean: *Looks away* "Nothing!"  
> Me: "N-Nothing."  
> Castiel: ?


	2. The Lucky One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter this time around. And no fear, smut is on the way! But I think their friendship deserves some recognition before we travel down a road we can't come back from ;)

* * *

 

Dean got ready for classes the next morning still clinging onto the fog of sleep. He pulled his boots and jacket on with a small amount of effort and retrieved a pop tart from his hidden sweets stash in the cabinet. Castiel would flip if he knew how much sugary goodness was tucked away behind the boxes of organic snacks.

Speaking of Cas... The door to his room was shut so Dean assumed he was still sound asleep. The other boy's classes wouldn't start until later and goodness knows he would need the rest after staying up so late last night. It was unusual for him to do that, but he must be more stressed about the upcoming test than he was letting on.

Dean palmed his keys and was out the door without another moment's pause.

When he opened the door to his Impala and slid inside, the soft purple of Castiel's jacket surprised him from the passenger's seat. It was a pleasant clash against the dark leather interior. Oh well, he would have to return it later; there wasn't enough time now.

Finally arriving at college, for once only two minutes late, the boy quickly ducked unnoticed into his first class. Remedial math, what a way to start the day. He always liked to jumpstart his brain with a coma-inducing subject. And the fearful anticipation towards handing over his essay was a perfect addition to the cocktail of excitement.

 _Be still, my beating heart_ , Dean scorned mentally, lounging lazily in a seat near the door.

It seemed like his last class would never arrive, but after a long lecture on economics Dean felt like skipping down the hallway to his final obstacle. Soon enough his college day would wrap up and he would be free to leave.

He stopped outside the door and took in a deep breath, attempting to solidify his confidence. Then the blonde entered the room and marched over to Mr Alistaire. A silver eyebrow jerked up when Dean thrust out his essay pages, cocky smile in place.

"There ya go. Ten pages."

The teacher must not have thought he would complete the assignment, because there was a note of shock in his reply. "T-Thank you, Dean. You may sit down."

Dean strolled down the aisle and plopped down in his usual seat, sending a wink to the hot red-head behind him. Damn, it felt good to be Dean Winchester.

 _'My best friend. Dean-Freaking-Winchester_. '

The teenager's thoughts went to Castiel. He absently wondered if the other boy had gotten up and dosed himself with enough liquid caffeine to short curcuit half of New York's population yet. He always did seem more cheery after hot coffee, regardless of the temperture outside.

Picturing Cas' mid-afternoon bedhead made Dean smile to himself. How had he gotten paired with such a quirky person for a best friend?

Easy, because Castiel was the only boy cunning enough to switch the diagram slides in their first grade projector with scenes of cow farming. _"Slaughtering helpless cows is murder, Miss Troy."_  Was the reason he had given. His serious expressions hadn't changed one bit; more matured now of course, but still retaining the candor of an honest child. For Dean, it was love at first sight.

Wait, he didn't mean  ** _love_ -**love. Friendship. The love of a friend or that of a brother.

Dean puckered his brow. He really had nothing to compare it to... Castiel was in his own category.

Ah, why put a name to it at all. Not everything needed a label, right?

 A strong voice broke through his thoughts, "Have you lost the ability to hear, Mister Winchester?"

"What?" Dean blinked and looked at his teacher, who was standing less than two feet away wearing a disparaging scowl.

"I _said_ would you be kind enough to read for us from chapter 30."

Dean wished he'd missed the scoffing laugh of the red-head as he leaned over to dig the required curriculum out of his backpack. He could see black leather shoes tapping impatiently and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Fuck my life."

 

...oOo...

 

The door slammed with so much force, Castiel jumped nearly a foot in the air. He pressed a hand to his chest and shot Dean a look. "Dude, try not to break the hinges. We would have to pay to get it fixed."

The seething blonde practically threw his backpack into the corner and stormed to his room, slamming the door behind him.

His ears were still hot from the embarrassment of English class. If being caught zoned out wasn't bad enough, Alistaire had made him stand up in front of the _entire class_ and read out loud those ten pages of ass-kissing inflection. He would never be able to get the mocking looks out of his head. So much for a cool reputation.

He jerked off his shirt and pulled on a tank top. When he was this frustrated there was only one thing that helped clear his head. He picked up two 25 pound hand weights and just started pumping his arms. Right, left, right, left, right, left...

Dean let his eyes drift shut and concentrated on the building burn in his muscles. Keeping up that quick pace brought a sheen to his forehead in no time, aided by the heat of his anger.

A light knock preceded the bedroom door opening to reveal Castiel. He peered at Dean, who opened his eyes just long enough to glance over.

"Is everything all right?" Concern weighed heavily in Cas' already deep voice.

"Yeah," Dean panted, "Just had a rough day is all."

"What happened?"

Dean slowed and studied Castiel who stared back with patient eyes. Dean swallowed and let his arms hang by his sides, taking deep breaths. Regardless of any secret Castiel might keep from him, or how curious their beginning might have been, this was the reason they were still close.

Because no matter what he was going through, Castiel always knew when to push and when to keep a distance. The other boy read him as clearly as any book he'd ever held and it was a strangely comforting thought. That probably should have made Dean feel weak, but he was only reassured. That, and the fact that they'd grown up side by side, was the reason their bond was so strong. Dean knew when to rely on Cas and when to shoulder his own burdens.

Today, it was all right to share the burden.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and lowered the weights to the floor. Wiping the sweat from his face, he muttered, "My english professor is being a dick."

Immediately, Castiel's brow furrowed. "Alistaire? How so?" Dean briefly remembered the brunette saying he had no negative feelings about that class except the teacher gave off a weird aura. Whatever that meant.

"He threatened to fail me." Castiel took in a sharp breath and stiffened.

"Why?" His voice sounded forced and Dean knew he shouldn't make a big deal out of it for Cas' sake. Sharing his irritation didn't mean worrying his best friend.

Dean couldn't hide the sheepish smile as he answered, "I may or may not have... _misplaced_ a few assignments."

The other boy rolled his eyes and let out a huge sigh, shoulders relaxing. This was a habit he knew well. Crossing his arms, Castiel fixed the blonde with an electric blue glare. " _Dean_ ," He stressed, "I told you when the first semester started, this isn't like high school. You can't expect to get away with slacking off."

Dean smirked bitterly, "For your information, I wrote an original ten page essay yesterday. By hand." As soon as he said it, Dean's mind flashed back to the previous day. Sitting in this very room, holding Castiel's laptop, ...looking at pictures of himself... reading Castiel's diary...

He looked down at the damp tank top and remembered the words he'd read. _'FUCK. Why is he so hot?'_

Dean tentatively raised his eyes to Castiel and studied him. His gaze was chastizing, arms still folded over his chest. He didn't appear to be the least bit affected by Dean's appearance. The egocentric Winchester must have misunderstood the rant.

Suddenly, Castiel's frown deepened. "Why did he make you write an essay?" He asked, looking down at where the other boy sat perched on the bed.

"For extra credit."

"Is he allowed to do that?"

Dean came up blank. Sure he was allowed to, he was the teacher after all. Was there something weird about that? "I guess so."

"Was that all he asked for?" Castiel's head tilted.

What?  "What?"

"He didn't say anything about other... activities?"

"Like what?" Dean stared up at Cas with curious green eyes, not sure what he was suggesting. Alistaire was a pain in the ass but he hadn't tried to extort money or anything if that's what Castiel was getting at.

The brunette just sighed and shook his head. "Nothing, never mind." He said, planting his hands on his hips. Dean's eyes followed the movement automatically and he had to make himself look away from the slim waist, clearing his throat.

His best friend used to be smaller than him but as the years passed they became more evenly matched physically. If Dean didn't work out as often as he did, the other man might even be able to take him in a fight. Heck, he still might. And he never did any kind of strenuous exercise. His effortlessly fit form made Dean jealous sometimes.

But more than that, he was proud, too. In fact, Dean was positive _he_ was the lucky one to have Castiel for a friend; not the other way around.

If Cas knew his privacy had been violated...

"Do you want to order a pizza or something?"

Dean met the blue gaze and a wave of guilt washed over him. Castiel steered clear of fast food unless he was thought it would serve to cheer Dean up when he was in a particularly foul mood. The fact that his best friend thought he should indulge the blonde made Dean feel even worse about snooping.

He breathed in deeply, willing himself into calmness and pushed the bothersome emotions to the back of his mind.

He stood and followed the other boy out of the room, saying, "I'll eat anything you feel like making."

This earned him a smirk, "I'm not your personal chef, you know."

"I know. But since you insist on buying wacky food, you are in charge of preparing said food. I don't have to remind you what happened the last time I tried cooking, do I?"

"Please, don't ever mention it again." Cas groaned, remembering.

With a hearty laugh, Dean replied, "Only when you leave me no other choice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *After Story Comments with ImpassionedWriter~
> 
> Me: "Why did you ask Dean about the extra credit?"  
> Castiel: "...I've heard some disturbing rumors about Alistaire's creative 'punishments'."  
> Me: "Rumors? Like what?"  
> Castiel: "Things I would rather not say."  
> Me: *wink* "C'mon, you can tell me."  
> Castiel: *fidgets* "I don't believe in spreading slander."  
> Me: "Fine, then tell us what happened when Dean tried cooking?"  
> Castiel: *pales* "I will never talk about as long as I live."  
> Me: *squints* "...You are an unhelpful bastard, you know that?"  
> Castiel: *gets up and walks away*  
> Me: "..."  
> Me: "..."  
> Me: "...That's all, folks."


	3. No Such Thing As Privacy

Two days go by before curiousity seeps back in Dean's mind, nipping at his brain at the weirdest times.

When standing in the kitchen, _I wonder if Cas would want a picture of me wearing an apron. ...What the hell am I thinking_?

While washing himself off in the shower, _Did he write about that cooking fiasco? I sure hope not. I would have to destroy the evidence_.

Flipping through channels while Cas gets ready to head out, laptop tucked infuriatingly under his arm, _Can he tell if I snoop on it? Do the files pop up in 'history' or something? What has he written the past couple of days? Has he said more stuff about me?_

It was at that point that Dean began to consider plotting a way to get another peek at the content. He waited for Castiel to go out and leave the computer behind but the young man was keeping it close, like he could hear Dean scheming.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Castiel pulled on his purple jacket and laced up his converse sneakers, laptop nowhere in sight. Dean's heartbeat started to quicken as he realized this was it. The oppertunity had arrived at last!

"Dean," Castiel looked across the room at his friend with that powerful gaze, "Would you drive me to the store? We're getting low on a few items."

"Oh, uh..." Dean blinked. He couldn't leave, this was a rare chance to sneak a look at Castiel's innermost thoughts. Admittedly, a sleazy thing to do, but he couldn't help it. The need to know was too overwhelming. "Go ahead and take Baby." He said, making his voice sound as casual as possible despite the anticipation.

Castiel made a suspicious face. "Why the sudden generousity? I mean, I appreciate it, but we both know you prefer to drive her yourself."

"I can't go."

"Why not?"

"A girl's coming over." The lie slipped out before Dean even thought about what he was saying. Kicking himself for being an idiot, he looked away from Castiel's startled expression.

The other boy swallowed and slowly nodded. "I see... Thanks for the warning." His tone was clipped and the last word held a hint of annoyance. He crossed the room in a fluid motion and swept up the keys from the coffee table. "I'll probably stop by the library as well, then." He turned his back to Dean.

The room was filled with tense quiet as Castiel slipped his wallet into the pocket of his jacket and ran both hands through his unruly black hair, attempting to tame it. He looked fine, Dean thought, noticing that the brunette didn't look in his direction again before leaving. Usually, he gave a parting nod or small wave, but not this time.

Not that Dean could blame him. There were certain rules about having people come over that both boys established before moving in.

If it was a large group, there had to be at least a full day's warning in advance. If it was a friend or two coming over to hang out, then only a few hours beforehand was sufficient notification. But when a girl was involved, the other person had to be consulted first so they could make plans that got them out of the apartment long enough for the other to have his fun. Dean had submitted to this particular rule four times since they'd moved in. He felt bad about turning Cas out just to get lucky, though, so usually he stayed over at the girl's place when he screwed around.

Dean wasn't sure why he felt bad about using that as an excuse, but it worked, regardless. He thanked his lucky stars that he'd come up with any reason at all to warrant some alone time and rushed to the window to make sure Castiel left before he dared enter his room.

The parking lot that served as home for his Baby was angled so it couldn't be seen from this side of the building, but the street was perfectly visible. Dean waited with bated breath to see the familiar gleaming black Impala he held so dear.

It was worth it to entrust her into Castiel's careful hands to gain some more behind the scenes info on his childhood friend. It was more than being nosy, Dean attempted to justify, he was seeing a side to Cas he wasn't privy to that might help him understand the guy a little better. A re-con mission behind the locked doors of Cas' soul would bring them closer.

He shouldn't feel as bad about it as he did. It was fine.

It was _fine_.

Two stories down, the Impala rolled onto the cracked pavement and eased down the road with an air of confidence only she could exude. Dean watched her go, filled with pride at the glorious beauty that was his car.

After waiting a few mintues to make sure Castiel wasn't coming back, he crept into the his bedroom.

"Why are you tiptoing?" He said to himself, the sound of his voice drowning out the second thoughts tugging at his decency.

There it was! Dean sat down at the desk, not bothering to remove the computer from its place this time and opened it. He wasted no time typing in the password and opened the same folder as before. "Recent docs..." He mused, scanning the list that came up. There were several new entries. Nervously, he clicked one.

 

_Diary,_

_I could hardly pay attention in classes today. Yesterday, Dean told me he might be failing. I know that if he gets an F in even one class, it could all be over. He's paying for this out of his own pocket, with little help from his parents (I elaborated on this before). And the deal he worked out for the payments is based on the condition that he keep up almost-perfect grades. Even with his level of charm, not keeping up his end of the deal will get him kicked out. I can't even imagine what would happen if Dean was unable to finish college. He would undoubtedly move out; I don't know if I could afford rent here by myself. And living alone... That is not something I want. But even more than that, what if Dean can't acheive his goals? His DREAMS? I wish I knew of a way to help, but all I can do is tell him what I am sure he already knows. Still, he wants to slack off. I can't fix everything for him. This is not high school anymore, I can't do half the work for him_.

 

Dean slumped down in the chair and re-read over the last few lines. Okay, maybe he called on Castiel for help a few times when he was too busy hanging out with other friends to do his homework, but it wasn't like he purposefully used him for that.

 _'I elaborated on this before'..._ More recent events were the initial target, but it would be interesting to sneak a peek at Cas from the past, Dean thought, biting his lip. He wrinkled his brow in concentration and clicked back to the folder, scrolling down until he found the much older entries. He opened one titled **Family** and read it with a shameful sense of violation.

 

_Diary,_

_I hate them. I loathe them. How dare they call themselves my 'family'. I absolutely cannot BREATHE, they smother me so much. Castiel, BE THIS. Castiel, DO THAT. Castiel, FOLLOW MY DREAMS. YOU ARE NOT OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW WHAT YOU WANT. Yes, I fucking know what I want! I have known my entire life exactly what I want, and it hurts so much not to have it. They don't know. THEY don't understand what it's like! How often I want to cry from frustration of being so close to my own heaven but still being stuck in hell. I know they gave me life, provide for me, but I resent them for this- as ridiculous as that is. I know I am ungrateful, but when they insist I have no control over my own life and no right to an opinion of my own, I think 'what is the point'. Why did they conceive me, so that I can become yet another pawn? Michael may have no qualms following their orders, but I will follow my own dreams. Fuck what they want. When I get out from under them, I will not be chained down by 'duty' anymore. I will make my own way in this world_.

 

The eldest Winchester propped his elbow on the desk and covered his mouth with his hand, heat rushing to his face. He was doing a terrible thing. This was such an invasion of privacy, he marveled at ever being able to convince himself to do it. Why had he stooped so low?

To read about himself, of course. Like a self-centered prick.

Regret almost tore him away but the screen held him, like a fly to honey, and he couldn't stop the hand on the laptop from opening another more recent Word doc, losing a bit of respect for himself as he did. But it was as addicting a rush as any he got from playing sports or speeding down a back road, playing a classic rock track as the sun set.

 

_Diary,_

_I should really be sleeping right now. It is nearly five in the morning. I don't know why it's so difficult to focus when I get in that mood... And, of course, when I got back from my fruitless library trip Dean was planted in front of the television. Luckily, he went to sleep soon after I got back. I left the TV on so he wouldn't be able to hear me. Maybe I should have gone to the bathroom, he could have walked out of his room at any moment and caught me in the act. But I just couldn't... The couch was still warm where he was laying. The heat felt like it was made for me, his shape fit mine perfectly. I hate myself when I'm this selfish. But we all have our flaws. Am I strong for accepting that or weak for allowing it?_

 

...This was from the other night. When Dean had written that essay and first caught a glimpse of this hidden aspect of Cas' life.

_-caught me in the act._

What? The act of... what? It couldn't be what Dean suspected, right? Castiel was a guy and all but he didn't... Not on the couch... Surely not.

_His shape fit mine perfectly..._

Dean swallowed the anxious lump in his throat and closed the laptop, feeling more confused than ever.

Yeah, okay, so Castiel was up so late that night because he was chasing a release. The heat that came from another person and not from himself had helped set him off. There wasn't anything too terrible about that. He undoubtedly needed the personal time, given that the entire five months they had been sharing an apartment, Dean had never been sent away because _Cas_ brought a girl home. All that pent-up energy had to go somewhere. Dean stopped reasoning with himself as he realized something interesting. He'd never once caught Cas jerking himself off. Five months together and he hadn't heard even the slightest moan from him. Not that he wasn't grateful, but they were both healthy young men and that sort of occurance was bound to happen from time to time. And yet, the only reason he knew anything _had_ happened was because he was reading about it. That son of a bitch must have some grade-A skills of discretion. If it wouldn't be an awkward conversation, Dean would ask for a couple of tips. But, no, that would be just plain weird.

He stood up from the desk, stretching his legs and traveled through the empty apartment until he was face to face with the bathroom mirror. " _You_ ," He addressed his reflection, "Are a nosy bastard."

Feeling somewhat at ease, he decided it would be all right to take advantage of the solitude and balance out the earlier lie by seeing his most reliable 'girl'; Miss Right Hand.

After a lengthy shower, he sprawled comfortably on the couch until Castiel's return, when he got up to help carry grocery bags inside.

Dean was as obedient as a puppy the rest of that evening. Although, for some reason he couldn't meet Castiel's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *After Story Comments with ImpassionedWriter~
> 
> Me: *shakes head* "Dean, I am very disappointed with you right now."  
> Dean: "I don't care what you think."  
> Me: *glares* "You should. Because I am the ONLY ONE who knows what is coming next."  
> Dean: "...Tell me."  
> Me: "No, you have earned a time out. Or a spanking."  
> Dean: "I am not letting you spank me."  
> Me: *Evil grin* "That's all right, I had something else in mind anyway."  
> Castiel: *appears in the doorway* "You asked for me?"


	4. Bad Roommate

Dean dropped Castiel off at college the next day and drove to his favorite music store. 

As he stepped through the door a tiny bell jingled, signaling his arrival and earning a friendly smile from the half-owner. "Hey, Dean, how's it hanging?" The young man, confidently sporting a mullet, stood behind a glass topped counter and sent a two-fingered wave at the blonde.

"Great, Ash. Got any new tapes in?" Dean asked, strolling over to peer at a stack of vintage records. The precious Impala was equipped for cassette tapes, sadly a dying novelty, and Dean was always looking to expand his collection. So far, this was the only place Dean had found nearby that hadn't been overrun by CDs and I-Tunes gift cards.

"You like ACDC, right?" Ash came out from behind the counter and headed for the back room.

"Hell yeah."

"Then I've got just what you're after." The twenty-four year old disappeared into the back only to emerge a few minutes later carrying a small shoe-box. "I had Jo put these aside for you. Some guy brought in a whole trash bag full of tapes. Most of them were cracked to shit, but these weren't so bad." He sat the box down atop the vinyls in front of Dean and took a step back to give him space.

The excited Winchester started picking out tapes one by one, reading the small printed song titles on each before setting it to the side. He had a few of them already, but most were at the top of his wanted list. Sensing that the other man was a little bored just standing there, Dean glanced up and said, "So how is Jo?"

Ash perked up at the mention of his sister and co-owner of the store, and answered, "She's doin' well. Just headed out with this gal she met, Carmen? Charlie? Chelsey? I'm not sure, I don't remember. But they seem like a pretty good fit."

"I'm happy for her." Dean smiled. He used to think Jo was cute, but after finding out she batted for the other team they became good friends and nothing more.

When he finished looking at the very last of the tapes Dean snatched up his 'chosen' pile with one hand and returned the rejects to the shoebox. He followed Ash's lead back to the counter and set them down, letting his eyes wander around the tiny shop while the older boy figured up the total.

There were so many worn but rare records stacked on randomly placed tables that it was a miracle they hadn't crashed to the floor yet. The most expensive ones were hung on the wall, representing every genre imaginable. In the farthest corner, cassette tapes were sorted into alphabetical order and lined up on shelves; the entirety of it was haloed in a soft film of dust.

Ash followed Dean's gaze to the corner and said, "Most of our customers come in here lookin' for antique records or the one long-lost album from their favorite band. Not a lot of people listenin' to the outdated stuff anymore. 'Cept you and a few others."

The green-eyed boy grinned, "So much for good taste."

"It's a lost art, I tell ya." With his trademark mellow expression, Ash dropped Dean's tapes into a plastic bag and held it out to him. "Twenty-five no tax."

Dean lifted a brow as he took the bag and fished out his wallet. "Not that I'm complaining, but don't you usually charge more?"

The answer came with a shrug, "Like I said, they aren't exactly our big-ticket item. And I know you'll be back again. Just think of it as a gesture of gratitude."

"Thanks."

"No prob," The lazy voice reached Dean's ears as he departed, "Catch ya later, Deanie in a bottle."

Trying to hold back his laughter, Dean shook his head as he stepped onto the sidewalk. _Deanie in a bottle_. Never heard that one before. Ash definitely had his own brand of humor.

 

Dean started the engine and pulled onto the black pavement that stretched as far as the eye could see. Behind him, the sun shone brilliantly, glinting off cars in his rearview mirror. Absently, the Winchester wished he had a pair of sunglasses in the Impala; but he'd made the mistake of loaning out his only pair and never saw them again. Who was it that adopted them- Sam? He honestly couldn't remember. Ah, well.

With a squint, he rustled the bag in the passenger's seat until he found its opening and pulled out one of his new tapes. He pushed it into the slot of Baby's tape player and smiled cheerfully when a high, growly moan emanated from the speakers. That unique sound, paired with the unmistakable tones of an electric guitar, was the ideal soundtrack of his life.

He steered with one hand on the wheel and the other hanging out the window, scoffing at the wind, singing as loudly as he could to the music.

It was a short drive back to the apartment and Dean hadn't been there for ten minutes before his cellphone vibrated, 'Smoke on the Water' muffled in his pants pocket. He flipped it open without checking the caller ID and answered by saying, "Sup?"

"Is that really how you greet people?" The chastising voice of his brother contrarily cheered him.

"Usually, what's up?"

"I just wanted to hear from you. How's the domestic life going?"

"The what?"

"You and Cas, are things running smoothly?"

Dean laughed at his brother's eager questioning and replied, "Yeah, things are fine- they're great! Did you expect me to kill him or something?"

"Well, you're friends but sharing a house has to be a little weird." Sam chirped.

Dean didn't understand what Sam was getting at. "What do you mean?" He asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

There was a short pause and the younger Winchester said in a whisper, "You know... Isn't it awkward to do... certain things while he's around?"

The blonde massaged the bridge of his nose in exasperation and answered, "Sam, if you mean what I think you mean... We're not having this conversation." It was nice to know Sam was still the inappropriate gossip girl he was before Dean moved out, but there were limits. Plus, hadn't Dean already traveled down this trail of thought last night? It was not a topic he wanted to re-visit.

"Come on, I'm fifteen now, I know all about that stuff."

"I'll bet you do."

"I'm just saying, he's probably walked in on you a few times, right? That doesn't make things awkward? Even I remember com- er- walking in on you jerking it before. You wouldn't look me in the eye for a week afterwards."

"Sam, that's because you're my little brother. If there is anybody in this world I don't want seeing me 'jerk it', it's _you_."

"Oh, but Cas is fine then."

"I didn't say that!" Dean smiled at the following giggle and decided to get fresh perspective on his current situation. "Hey, mind giving me your opinion on something?"

"Sure!" Pleasant surprise was clear in the younger boy's voice at being asked to weigh in on anything in brother's life.

"If I were to find, I don't know, Castiel's diary... How bad of a person would it make me to read it?" There was no answer. "Sam, you still there?"

After a couple of seconds, he heard a slow inhale. "Dean," Sam's voice was more serious than before, "You are an _ass_. Please tell me you haven't read his diary."

"I may have glanced at it."

"Unbelievable, Dean! Are you serious? Like picking on him as kids wasn't enough? He isn't your personal chew toy! Stop screwing around!"

"What are you talking about?" Dean's confusion was sincere, "It's not like I abuse him or anything. It's just normal curiousity."

"We both know you like to put on a show and he usually ends up playing stagehand. I've lived with you my whole life, you aren't the best house-mate in the world, if he's nice enough to stick around then you should at least keep your nose out of his business! Respect the boundaries, dude."

Dean tried to come up with a logical reason to give his brother that wasn't decidedly self centered. He couldn't.

"I mean, it's like you can't stop dipping his pigtails in ink."

"What?"

"He's the sweet little girl and you're the boy that likes to bully him because you don't know how to express your feelings." Sam explained the analogy.

"Ah." Was all Dean said. He knew Sam didn't mean it like _that_ , but something about the comparison was so on point it was uncanny. Castiel was so easy to pick on it compelled him to do it more. Did that make sense or did he just have a sadistic streak?

Dean busied himself with the opening and closing of cabinet doors, taking a mental inventory of the items inside. He held the cellphone close to his ear, only half listening as Sam continued to rambled on about his observance of his brother's best friend and the importance of knowing when to draw a line when it came to sharing. The older Winchester occasionally grunted in acknowledgment but directed his focus to the boxes of cereal taking up two shelves above the counter. Mostly organic, one or two sinfully sugary cereals that Dean had to beg to be able to get. He felt like a child having to ask his mother for food that offered no benefit aside from instant gratification; but in a way Cas was even more unyielding than Dean's actual mom. What was it with that boy? Yeah, eating healthy was all fine and whoop... But what teenager wouldn't jump at the chance to sully his diet while he was still young enough to do so without much ill affect? Dean worked off the extra calories, it was no big deal. But everyone liked certain things and apparently Castiel's thing was obscure, organic food with unpronounceable names.

"Dean?"

The honey-haired young man snapped back to reality and struggled to recall what Sam had said. Drawing a blank, he said, "What was the question?"

"It wasn't a question, it was a statement," Sam sighed loudly, "And I said make sure you don't let Cas find out about you violating his privacy. In fact, you should pretend it never happened and don't ever do it again."

Dean automatically looked toward his roommate's bedroom, although the laptop had gone with him to college. His mind went to the photos taken in absolute secrecy and the words that completely bared Cas' soul without hesitation. He knew this exclusive look into Castiel's mind was not something he could give up easily.

"Of course." He lied, making a decision to leave his brother out of the loop. "I wouldn't dream of crossing the line."

"Good, how goes college?"

"Eh, it's all right." Dean kept the answer vague. He didn't want to tell Sam about almost being failed; if that got back to his parents he was dead for sure. Also, he hadn't yet heard back from Alistaire about a score or grade on that extra-credit essay he'd been forced to deliver speech style. "But enough about my life, shrimp, how's it going for you? Any brutes I need to pound on?"

Sam tsked and Dean could hear the proud smile in his voice when he replied, "Actually, it's pretty great. A lot of the kids have siblings that went to school with you, so your rep sort of makes me royalty."

"How nice. You must feel so special."

"I do, and I've made some cool friends. Meg, Ruby, Gabriel, Adam." The younger Winchester listed them off and proceeded to give Dean a detailed history of each one.

Dean crossed the room and sat down in the only armchair, aligned with the couch before the television, but left it off so he could listen to Sam's enthusiastic babbling.

After many more increasingly tedious minutes of childish illustration of the drama that came with having so many diverse friendships, Sam finally winded down. Dean could hear him sigh happily and smiled to himself. "It sounds like things are going well. I was worried once I left you'd be all alone; Sammy, the kid with poor social skills."

"Hey! First of all, I'm not shy anymore. And second, it's _Sam_."

"I can call you whatever I want, Sammy. You aren't here to defend yourself." Dean laughed, unable to keep from teasing his younger brother.

"I'll call Cas if I have to and get him to kick your ass."

"He doesn't stand a chance. And don't swear." It probably wasn't possible for his best friend to actually beat him up, but the thought of such aggression from the ever composed brunette... It would be interesting to see.

"Aw, Dean, we both know you've said worse. Besides, I think if he found out about you reading his diary, very little convincing would be needed to encourage an act of violence."

"Don't you dare breathe a word of it." Dean's voice was steel.

Sam relented, "I won't. But you owe me a favor in exchange for my silence."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"Let me stay with you guys sometime. It sounds like a lot of fun and I need to get out of this house."

"I thought you had new friends? Stay with one of them."

"Dad won't let me since we just started hanging out. Accept my terms."

Green eyes rolled at his smartass brother. Damn, if this boy wasn't going to turn into a lawyer or something. "Deal."

"Whoop!" Sam hollered for joy and quickly added, "Thanks!"

"Don't thank me, you have to clear it with Cas."

"Oh, don't worry about that, I can get him to agree to anything!"

Dean's brow twitched. Why did that irritate him? Because he lacked the influence his brother's puppy dog eyes had on Castiel?

Another voice spoke up in the background of the call and Sam's was faint; Dean assumed he was covering up the mouthpiece. "Hey, Dean?" He came back on the line, "Mom is taking me out to the bookstore. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Anytime, nerd."

"Jerk."

"Bitch." The affectionate parting shots were nothing less than tradition for the two and Dean snapped his cellphone shut with a soft smile.

As relaxing as independent living was, he missed the comforting buzz that filled his family's home at times like this. When there was no one but him sitting here, silence claiming the entire apartment, it was kind of lonely.

Castiel would be taking the bus back so they could save money on gas. Dean considered just going to pick him up, but a peek at his phone screen confirmed classes wouldn't end for another two hours.

He ventured to the kitchen to sneak a candy bar from his stash and returned to flop down on the couch. Turning the TV on, the blonde heaved a bored sigh and hummed the song he'd been singing on the way home earlier. Nothing like classic rock to cheer a man up.

 

* * *

 

When Castiel finally returned late that afternoon, interrupting Dean from an embarrassing air guitar performance, he threw together a healthy meal and the two  sat down on the couch to eat as per routine.

"We should start eating at the table like normal people." The brunette said absently, crossing his legs and stirring the leafy contents in his bowl with a fork.

"Don't fool yourself," Dean said around a mouthful, "This _is_ the norm." He glanced past Castiel at the table that stood in front of the living room window. It was piled high with random books, and papers, and clothes he managed to survive without picking up. "Besides, I'm not taking that on. You can't even see the TV from there."

"We wouldn't be watching movies, the point of a dinner table is to have conversation."

Dean leaned into Cas like Sam had done him many times, and said with a grin, "But isn't it rude to talk with your mouth full?" He opened his mouth, revealing the partially chewed rabbit food his roommate loved so much.

Castiel recoiled but he was smiling. "Stop, that is disgusting!" He held his bowl away when Dean slid down against his chest and made gross chomping sounds, green eyes twinkling with mischief.

Then, unexplainably, the mood changed and the blonde realized he was almost laying in the other boy's lap. On the very couch he'd-

He sat up quickly, swallowing the bite of salad with a small cough, not really tasting it. Castiel deliberately looked away, and Dean covered up the awkwardness with a forced laugh. He tried not to think about Sam likening him to a little boy with a crush. They were best friends, after all, joking around was a part of life. Maybe he went too far sometimes... How would he know, Cas disguised his true feelings as pixels in cyberspace.

The worry comes as a surprise. Dean usually doesn't care one way or another if people like him or not. But this is different, Castiel is a huge part of his life. What if his behaviour is a source of irritation? Although, if his personality were an issue, wouldn't they have stopped being friends a long time ago?

He looks at Castiel out of the corner of his eye before gathering the courage to ask, "Are you happy?"

The question earned a raised eyebrow. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. Just living here with me, putting up with your work load, It's not exactly the perfect life."

"Dean," Castiel lowered his bowl and faced the blonde seriously, "There's no such thing as a perfect life. But I'm getting an education, I don't have a curfew, and I get to live with my best friend. If this didn't make me happy, I don't know what would. ...Why the sudden question? Are _you_ unhappy?" The blue eyes were cautious.

Dean's answer comes a little too quickly, "No! I mean, you don't complain about anything so I thought you might be bottling it up."

Castiel rolled his eyes, "I'm not four anymore; tantrums are a thing of the past. Plus, don't you think if I was constantly bitching about stuff it would get annoying?"

"I guess... So, just for an example, what would you bitch about?"

Cas huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. "Nothing. Everything's _fine_." He said.

Dean wasn't sure if he was convinced. He studied Castiel's face for a sign of dishonesty, but the gaze was sincere. Feeling bad about doubting him, Dean sighed, "Okay, but I know I can go a little overboard, even Sam said so. Apparently I'm not the best brother ever." He finished with a short laugh and quieted when he saw the way Castiel was staring at him.

"I'm not your brother, Dean."

"I know that. I was just saying... you put up with a lot. So, thanks."

The blue gaze fell to the floor and Castiel shifted his body away from Dean. "Don't thank me." His voice was low for a moment, but then he said in a lighter tone, "It's what friends do. You're just as accepting as I am."

Instantly, Dean was hit with a wave of guilt. "What are you talking about?" He attempted to joke, also looking down, "You have to be the easiest person to get along with in the history of pushovers."

"I'm definitely a pushover all right."

Dean dared to glance up and caught the brunette's eyes. It was impossible to read him, it had always been that way; even when they were younger. Not being the most observant person, Dean was lucky Cas was usually direct. But at times like this, he felt like there was something he was missing and had no clue what that might be.

"Pass me the remote?"

"Sure." Dean complied quickly.

 _What does he see when he looks at me? Am I the cool guy he's glad to know, or the weirdo that flashes a mouthful of food at him?_ Those pictures he'd seen on the laptop portrayed him as a fun-loving, laid back boy; but none of them had been particularly recent. What if Castiel was growing tired of him and wanted to spare his feelings by insisting everything was fine?

Dean instinctively searched the room, until he spotted the desired item. "Can I borrow your camera for a second?" He asked, a little too loudly.

The request bought him a glance, "Why?"

He grappled for a quick excuse. "I want to memoracate my car while she's still young."

"'Memoracate'? That's not a real word. And besides, I think the flower of Baby's youth bloomed a long time ago."

"Um, excuse you, she's age defying."

"That she is. ...Sure. Just don't drop it." Cas consented, sending the overjoyed Winchester scrambling over to the bookshelf where the expensive piece of equipment had been last placed. He snatched it up and with a parting 'be right back,' disappeared out the door.

With a pounding heart and short breaths, Dean skipped down a flight of stairs and journeyed out to his sleek black car, climbing into the driver's seat. He wasted no time turning the camera on and pressing the button he'd seen used to bring up pictures.

The first photograph was a street veiw of a basketball court. Unique perspective and superb lighting... A stunning contrast of black and white. But not what he was looking for. He pushed another button, moving through the pictures one by one until he had seen every shot on the memory card.

Damn it. Not a single photo of him. Dean didn't know why he felt disappointed, but he did all the same. He remained in the driver's seat for a few more minutes letting the emotion play havoc with his ego. What did he care if Cas didn't want any pictures of him?

He slammed one hand down on the dash in anger and immediately felt bad for abusing his precious Baby. "What the hell is wrong with me?" He said aloud, rubbing the spot he'd hit. Maybe he was going crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~After Story Comments with ImpassionedWriter  
> [Watching ANY movie EVER]  
> Me: *is watching*  
> Me: *realizes there is more than one guy*  
> Me: "I could ship that..."
> 
> Castiel: "What does that have to do with anything?"  
> Me: "I'm just proving a point."  
> Castiel: "Prove it then."  
> Me: "Everybody (no matter how straight they pretend to be) secretly ships a gay couple."  
> Castiel: "There is no logic to base that upo-"  
> Me: "ADMIT IT, SPOCK! WHO IS YOUR OTP?!"  
> Castiel: *cringes back in fear* "I... I believe Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are a closeted couple?"  
> Me: "Very good. Now who do they remind you of? Hint, it's you two."  
> Dean: "I have no part in this."  
> Me: *under my breath* "Except satisfying the pitcher."  
> Dean: *deathly glare*


	5. Another Side of Myself

The older Winchester wasn't exactly sure why the lack of photos bothered him. Maybe he thought Castiel had lost interest. Maybe Sam was right to compare him to a child, these feelings certainly felt childish.

In order not to arouse suspicion, he half-heartedly snapped a picture of the Impala and returned indoors to mope internally.

The following morning, he crawled out of bed and stared at the pile of unfolded clothes laying in the floor with confliction. His hands closed into determined fists and he found himself opening the closet door, giving serious thought to his clothing choice for the first times in weeks. After holding up at least fifteen shirts, he settled on a plain white one with nearly transparent blue buttons and a pair of pants that had been barely worn. The pants were deep blue denim and both articles of clothing were wrinkle-free; thanks to the one time after they moved in that Castiel took it upon himself to iron things before Dean told him there was no point.

He straightened his collar and stared into the mirror, running a hand through his messy hair in hopes of taming it.

When his appearance was satisfactory, even to his standards, Dean emerged from his bedroom with a confident gait. Castiel glanced over from behind the island that separated the kitchen from the living room and did a double-take. He lowered his head and Dean thought he saw the traces of a blush. But it had to have been his imagination because when the brunette looked up again, he was completely casual.

"You're all dressed up today. Got some big plans?" Cas asked, twirling the straw in his breakfast smoothie between two fingers.

"Just the same old stuff." Dean wrinkled his nose at his roommate's breakfast, "Have I told you yet that you eat like a freaking girl?"

Castiel's eyebrows flew up and he said, "Not to my knowledge. But thanks for that. I needed to start my day with a comment on my feminism." It was meant as a joke, obviously. The form he poorly hid under a loose black tank top was in no way feminine. In fact, it was silly to see someone so masculine slurping up pink liquid through a straw.

Castiel cocked his head and it occurred to Dean that he had been standing there watching him for the last minute in total silence. He occupied himself by fiddling with the top button of his shirt.

"You should leave that one open."

It almost sounded like a command and the observation sent unexpected chills down Dean's spine. He hesitated for a split second before consenting to let his collar gape fractionally. Did Cas think he looked good today? Not that he dressed up for him; he didn't. He was in the mood to primp a little bit, that's all. It wasn't like he was trying to coax anything...

Castiel saw Dean's green eyes travel to the camera and stood up straighter, asking, "Do you want me to take picture?" The blonde seemed to be interested in his camera lately. Maybe he was thinking of getting one.

Dean blinks and is torn when he answers, "N-No."

Castiel squints and tries to decipher the reason behind the stutter. He usually knows what Dean is thinking, but lately he seems as confused by his own actions as Cas is trying to interpret them.

The sunlight is streaming through the window over the table behind Dean, painting him in a halo of light, and he clears his throat, "I have to get to school."

"Oh, right." Today is Friday, and on Fridays it's Cas' turn to drop Dean off and make his own social rounds.

They hurriedly gathered up the necessary items, such as jackets, books, and keys, and quickly left. While Castiel drives, Dean puts one of his new tapes into the cassette player and lets the music lift his spirits. The other man's lips twitch and he mutters, "You and this band..."

"What? It's fantastic."

"If you say so."

Dean bit the inside of his cheek, refraining from a sarcastic comeback and instead, turns his focus ahead. Castiel drives like a pro, if a little fast. His grip on the steering wheel is tight but easy, so sure of his abilities that it's like he was born for the road.

Castiel doesn't mind the quiet but prefers the hum of conversation so he prompts, "Have you heard from Alistaire about whether you're passing?"

Dean's breath hitches. He had forgotten. _Shit_. He dreaded showing his face in class again. "Not yet. I guess I'll have that to look forward to today."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Right. And the moon is made of cheese."

Castiel chuckles and says, "I think they're cheating you on your education."

"Hey, everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten."

"Really? Like what?"

Dean played along and ticked off on his fingers, "Don't steal another kid's juice box, no smooching girls around their friends or they'll call you gross and run away screaming, teachers like the quiet kids, paint is the devil's plaything, glue doubles as food."

A wide smile revealed Cas' perfect teeth and he said, "You, my friend, are wise beyond your years."

"It all comes from experience. Not everything can be taught, bookworm."

"You're right. All that time I wasted at the library when I should have been eating glue. What was I thinking?"

The humor reminded Dean of Castiel's last study session. "Say," He said, "How did you do on that test you were so worried about?" There was a pause and Dean frowned.

But he didn't need to be concerned. "I passed. Second highest score, actually." The brunette couldn't help bragging.

Dean shot him a smug look and chided, "I told you so. You probably cleared your head-" _pounding one out._ He almost let it slip out.

Castiel took his eyes off the road long enough to catch Dean's expression. "What?" He asked, unaware of Dean's train of thought.

"Never mind. Good job."

Castiel would have pressed the issue further, but they arrived at their destination at that moment and Dean wasted no time getting out of the car. Before he shut the door he leaned in and winked. "Careful with my girl, huh?"

Cas nodded. "Always am."

Shutting the door, they parted ways for the time being and Dean felt a tiny twinge in his chest as he listened to the sound of the engine fade. A couple of girls outside the building sent him flirtatious smiles and one bit her bottom lip suggestively. Dean couldn't help feeling a little grateful to the powers that be for his good looks. He should dress up more often.

The day passed just like any other, slow classes, droning teachers, lots of oppertunitys to unleash his scathing wit. By the time English came around, he was enjoying himself quite a bit. Oh well, a good mood couldn't last forever.

Bracing himself for the worst, Dean tried to mix in with the crowd of students entering the room, hoping his uncharacteristic punctuality would make it difficult for Alistaire to spot him. His hopes were in vain.

"Winchester, come here."

The other students filed through the room to their seats while Dean stepped out of the throng and scowled in the direction of his sadistic teacher. What cruel torture did he have in mind today? Did he maybe want him to do a thousand push-ups on one hand?

The silver-haired man peered down his long nose at Dean. "You did a good job with that essay," He said, shocking the boy, "It will make up for the work you've missed, however, the requirements were unfair and for that I apologize. But you had better complete every assignment I give for the rest of the semester. If you don't, I will fail you on the spot. Is that understood?"

Dean couldn't speak. Alistaire had just apologized. Never had he heard a single word of repentance from him before. The blonde nodded, still at a loss for words.

"Take your seat." Alistaire said, turning his back to Dean and organizing some papers on his desk.

In a trance, Dean walked to his usual seat and sat down heavily.

_Did that just happen?_

 

Castiel sent Dean a text during the last class that read, 'Sorry im running late' and the blonde ended up waiting half an hour before deciding to take the bus home. When he arrived, the Impala was nowhere in sight and he sent a worry-inspired message asking if everything was okay. Cas was a stickler for punctuality most of the time so his absence was unsettling.

There was no answer and Dean forced himself to be patient, leaning against the apartment building, staring at the emptiness of his usual parking space. His thoughts were a cloud of confusion. These past few days had been... perplexing to say the least.

It was as if finding the hidden side of Castiel revealed a new side of himself as well. Since when did Dean care how he dressed or acted in front of his best friend? When was the last time they casually touched without Dean feeling awkward about it? And why was he brooding over something as trivial as photographs? It wasn't like he wanted it to have some secret meaning.

College was just getting to him and he was seeking a distraction, blowing the whole thing out of proportion. That had to be it. What other reason was there?

Unless he did want it to mean something.

But Cas had been his closest friend ever since they were kids and he wasn't about to risk everything just because he was overthinking it.

He shoved both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and trudged inside, stomping down the feeling of disappointment that was reminiscent of yesterday's let down.

When he opened the front door, he was met with silence and shadows. This place was certainly much more lively when Castiel was here. He trudged into the room, purposefully dragging his feet, and didn't bother to take his shoes off before falling onto the couch. A sigh escaped his lips. This would be a good oppertunity to delve deeper into Cas' diary; but for some reason, he didn't want to.

It couldn't be explained, his mind was just elsewhere. Wondering where his roommate was, why he still hadn't replied to Dean's text, if he would ever trust Dean enough to tell him the things he wrote down on his computer without Dean having to go behind his back to find out what was going on in his head. It was true that everybody needed their privacy, but the young Winchester had no secrets at all from his best friend. In fact, hacking into his laptop was the first thing he'd kept from him.

Somehow, he felt like Castiel was the one betraying him, not letting Dean into his life completely. It kind of hurt.

But Dean was probably being possessive. After all, it wasn't like they were kids anymore; at some point they were going to have to part ways. Find girlfriends, get married, and start families. Would he ever see him then? Or would they only get together twice a year to catch up over beers and look back on this as the 'good old days'?

Yeesh, how depressing. Dean closed his eyes and let the weariness of the day wash over his mind, easing the troubled thoughts. He should get up and do something to pass the time. Something productive, like clean off the table in front of the window so they could share a meal like Cas wanted. Hang his clothes up in the closet, dust... well _anything_ , or at least take off his shoes.

Instead, unconciousness took over his mind and he slipped away into blissful absence. He didn't hear the door open and light footsteps creep across the room, disappearing into Castiel's room.

* * *

 

 

When Dean roused, he heard the clicking of keys on a keyboard. The speed and volume reminded him of machine-gun fire. A tiny smile crossed his face. Then he remembered his previous impatience. He sat up and stretched his arms above his head, the last hold of his nap playing around his lips in the form of a yawn.

The rapid tapping of keys from Cas' room had Dean curious. What was he typing? He stood up and tried to appear casual as he sauntered to his best friend's room.

The minute he appeared in the doorway, Castiel pushed a button that made the computer screen go dark and looked up at Dean repentantly. "Hey, I didn't want to wake you. Sorry you had to take the bus."

"It's fine, but what was the hold up?" Dean leaned in the doorway and folded his arms over his chest. He was careful not to appear bothered.

"I was... preoccupied. But it won't happen again, I promise. And I put your keys on the shelf beside the door." The answer was vague and the blonde noted that Castiel didn't meet his eyes when he spoke. He kept hovering until the brunette spared a glance and said, "How was college?"

Dean's expression brightened and he took a few steps forward. "I talked to Alistaire- He's not failing me! And, he actually said he was sorry for being such a prick. Well, he didn't those words but we both know that's what he meant."

Castiel cocked his head as he listened to Dean. His hand twitched toward the laptop, making Dean wonder again what he had been writing. "That's great. I knew it would work out." Cas smiled. Dean could tell he was waiting for him to leave before turning the computer back on. This was strangely irritating.

"So what are you working on?" He feigned innocence, nodding to the laptop.

"Homework. I'm typing up some notes from yesterday." That was a lie. He could see the wall that went up behind Cas' blue eyes.

"Oh..." Dean found himself backing out of the room. He shrugged, "I'll leave you to that then."

The other boy nodded and watched him leave, making sure he was out of sight before turning the screen back on.

Dean had a bitter taste in his throat at the subtle rejection he'd just been subject to as he returned to the living room. His jaw was tight and he sat down on the couch with a thump. How many times in the past had his best friend lied to him about what he was doing? That brush off was clear as day, yet Dean hadn't been aware of it before. Cas must think he was the most oblivious guy ever.

Already fed up with the lack of communication between them he'd only recently noticed, Dean barely felt his phone vibrate and clumsily retrieved it from his back pocket. Only after he flipped it open did he realize it was a call; he had turned off the ringtone while in classes. The number was unrecognized. He quickly held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

There was an intake of air on the other end and a female voice said, "Dean?"

"Yeah, who is this?" It wasn't often he got calls from girls.

"It's Miranda. Oh, you probably don't know who I am, I sit behind you in remedial math?" She was right, he didn't know who she was.

"What's up?"

"I got your number from Lisa, I hope that's okay." Dean cringed at his ex-girlfriend's name. They had only been on four dates when she began pressuring him to get serious. Like a diamond ring and white picket fences serious. "Anyway, there's gonna be a party tomorrow night at Justin's house, I'm calling a bunch of people. There'll be drinks, music, and looots of girls to hang out with. Invite as many friends as you want- the more the merrier! Do you need directions?"

"Nah, I know where he lives, I was at the last party. It was awesome," Dean recalled with a grin, "My buddy and I will definitely be there."

"Good! It starts around eight and goes all night. Can't wait to see you! "

"Yeah, you, too."

"Okay, I have to make more calls, byyyyeeee!"

 The call ended and Dean slid his phone back into his pocket. It was about time for another party; the last one had been at least two weeks ago.

"Where are we going?" The deep voice by Dean's ear caused him to jump. Heart beating fast, he aimed a frown over his shoulder, "There's this thing called personal space, you know. And stop sneaking up on me already!"

"I can't help being a ninja. Who was that?" Castiel knelt down, crossing his arms on the back of the couch and setting his chin on top of them.

"Some chick from school. There's a party tomorrow night and we're both gonna be there."

"I was going to sit in on some lectures though."

Dean rolled his eyes and lifted both feet up to rest on the coffee table, just to annoy Cas. "If you don't learn to unwind, your head'll get too full of information and fall off."

"That's impossible, Dean."

"Mhm." He saw the sapphire gaze shift and followed it to his dirty sneakers. _Shit_! He had forgotten to take them off!

Castiel's jaw ticked but he didn't say anything and instead straightened and walked to the kitchen. The blonde hastily leaned forward and unlaced his Converse, shucking them off and tossing them in the direction of the door.

After opening a cabinet and shuffling some things around, Cas returned with a snack size bag of Skittles. "Are you responsible for these?"

"Maybe?" Dean squirmed.

"I'm confiscating them."

"Hey, I can have guilty pleasures! I live here, too, you know!" The desperation to reclaim his candy had the brunette making a funny face. "Fine," Cas relented, "But I want some."

Dean eagerly snatched the Skittles and suspiciously eyed the other boy. "Why? I thought you hated junk food?"

"I'm only human."

"I thought you were a ninja."

"Ninjas are human, too. And as such require sweet things."

Dean bat his emerald eyes and purred, "I'm sweet."

Castiel blinked and jerked his head back in surprise. But, used to Dean's quips, he quickly recovered and countered, "That's why I keep you around. Also to pay half the rent."

"Good point. Okay, here." Dean tore open the bag and held them out to the brunette. But Cas declined with a shake of his head, "Save me some. I have to grab a shower since you expect me to socialize tomorrow." He moved around the couch and ran a hand through his hair, already figuring out how he should style it.

"Damn right I expect you to socialize. And you better mingle!" Dean hollered after Castiel as he headed to the bathroom, "Because if I have to drag you around by the belt and tell people you're mute, I will!" He grinned wickedly, imagining how that scene would play out.

After a few minutes, he heard the shower running. And his mind flashed back to the laptop.

Slowly, he stood up and tip-toed to the other boy's bedroom, pausing to make sure there was no danger of Cas returning, and went in. He opened the computer and pushed the power button.

Waiting for it to boot up felt like an eternity and Dean's pounding heartbeat was so loud it was the only thing he could hear. He was getting reckless- snooping when Castiel was still in the apartment! Being so careless would get him caught in the act. _Come on._ He mentally urged the computer to go faster.

When it came to life, he typed the password and pressed enter, moving the mouse across the screen to the intended destination. His suspicions were soon confirmed. Cas had created a new word doc.

In fact, he had added a couple of new ones since the last time Dean checked. His attention was drawn to one from yesterday titled 'Dean's teach'. The all too familiar, unenjoyable sensation of dread was stirred up once more.

He double-clicked.

 

 _Diary,_  
_I went to see Alistaire about Dean today. I was polite and tactful but why did I expect a bastard like him to listen? So I went over his head and took care of it. If people in positions of power- no matter how slight- want respect, then they should behave in a respectable manner._  
_Note to self: Dean can write a good essay, for once in your life get some tips from him instead of the other way around!_

 

So that was why Alistaire... Dammit, why was Cas pulling strings behind Dean's back?! And he let him gush about it! Not only was Castiel subtle about taking care of his own needs, he had one hell of a poker face to boot.

What on earth had he poured out about today? Had he taken it upon himself to, I don't know, sell his organs on the black market and pay for the rest of Dean's tuition?

The honey-haired Winchester would never have been able to brace himself for what he read next.

 

 _Diary,_  
_My hands are shaking so much it's hard to write this... I drove Dean's car today; the Impala, the BABY. And some asshat came along and dinged it while I was in the store! I don't know who, I didn't see it. But when I came back out there was a scratch. It's awful! I can't believe it! What do I do if Dean sees it?! He's going to know it happened while I had her; and if he didn't I would feel so bad lying about it. Should I tell him? I'm afraid he would never trust me again! He will be so upset I can't decide which would be worse, his expression of anger or the face he will make if it hits him the wrong way and he's hurt. A face so broken it makes my chest ache just to imagine it... I tried to take her to a garage and get it fixed, painted over or something, but nobody would help._  
_What do I do? What should I do?_

 

The Impala... The fucking Impala... No way.

Anger colored Dean's vision red and he slammed the laptop shut, not handling it with care like he usually did. He bolted out of the chair, through the apartment, and stomped down the stairs until he was storming across the parking lot to his beloved Baby.

He should never have trusted her to anyone else. He let her out of his sight and this is what happens? Some jerk ruins her paint job?!

It was wrong to blame Castiel, but still, how could he let this happen?

Strangers send him looks as he stalks by, but it is unbelievably easy to ignore them. Dean has one thing on his mind and everything else disappears. He approaches the Impala and apprehension clenches in his chest.

He scours every inch of the pristine black vehicle, searching for the damage he knows is there; the mark that mars the perfection of his classic car. After several long minutes of intense peering, he spots it. A thin silver line, no longer than three inches and barely deep enough to breach the surface.

...Is that it?

He scans the rest of the Impala to make sure there aren't more, worse scratches. He finds nothing and frustration bubbles away, and it feels like the weight of worlds is lifted off his shoulders. With knees weakened by relief, Dean pats Baby's hood and takes a moment to steady himself. This is nothing compared to what he was expecting. Castiel was really torn up over this? Of course, he hadn't seemed all that distressed while he was seizing Dean's stash.

He decided to spare his best friend the lecture, but as punishment for not confessing to it the second he got home, Dean was going to let him suffer the guilt a bit longer. Hopefully, that would be enough for him to learn a lesson and if he didn't bring it up the blonde would let it slide and pretend not to know whose fault it was. It was a double standard, yes, but keeping secrets was one thing, not telling him when something happened to his car was an entirely different ball game.

Still, because it wasn't irreversible, he would give Cas a free pass... this time around.

 ...

He made it back inside before the other boy got out of the shower and planted himself in front of the television. They would have to buy an X-box or something, watching the same old television shows was getting boring. Although, he would turn into a lazy couch lump if he wasn't careful.

Cas sat down beside him after changing into grey sweat pants and a loose T-shirt, plucking up the pack of candy Dean had set aside. His still-wet hair was spikey and Dean couldn't help sneaking glances at him. The brunette's serious face and the way he chewed on his bottom lip during commercials was so... so... what? Dean didn't want to say cute; somehow that didn't seem like the right word. He was so very boy-ish and casual, with an air of natural confidence that was mesmerizing, Dean had to remind himself to pay attention to the television.

He eventually retreated to his room to lift weights. There had been so much restless energy growing lately. It was like he couldn't act normally around Cas for very long anymore. Hell, they had spent entire weekends before debating the advantages of high school sports versus late night cram sessions- one guess to which side Dean was on- but now even the most innocent glances were suspect in his own mind.

This really was confusing. What was he afraid of? Did he think betraying Castiel with the diary was so unforgivable he didn't deserve the other's friendship anymore?

He needed to stop awkwardly dancing around the issue and fix it. Maybe if he steered clear of the laptop and put it all behind him everything would go back to the way it was before. That would work right? Just banish everything into nonexistence and move on?

It had to work.

 ...

Sleep, which had come easily, abandoned Dean sometime deep in the night. One second he was lost to the world and the next his eyes snapped opened and darted around the disorienting darkness, trying to remind himself of his surroundings. Within a matter of moments they adjusted and he could see the silhouhette of furniture and stripes of light through the window blind painting the wall.

He rolled over, pulling the blanket up to his chin and trying to surrender the waking state over to his subconcious.

But to no avail. He turned his head and squinted at the alarm clock beside his bed. _3:23_ Great. Too early to start his day and too late to extend the night. The only option was to close his eyes and hoped he dozed off at some point.

...Was he being mean by jerking Cas around? Having fun at his expense, maybe, but mean? It was fine since Castiel was used to his teasing, after all, right?

But even though he was punishing him, Dean couldn't fight the uncanny feeling that he was acting like a sulking child about all this. It made for troubled dreams when he finally did go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Please let me know if the change in POV in the beginning felt odd. I'm trying to edit this fic c:)
> 
> ~After Story Comments With ImpassionedWriter
> 
> Me: *eats a Skittle*  
> Me: "Mmm..."  
> Me: "Taste the Rainbow."  
> Castiel: "Aren't you supposed to ask questions?"  
> Me: *holds out candy* "Do you want one?"  
> Castiel: "No."  
> Dean: *awkwardly raises hand* "I'll take a few."  
> Me: "Here ya go."  
> Dean: *pops one in his mouth* "These are so good."  
> Dean: *closes his eyes with a look of ecstasy*  
> Castiel: "...I need to be alone."


	6. No Inhibitions

Dean was surprised when he got up the next day to find Castiel standing in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with his head in his hands and a nearly drained cup of coffee before him. The other boy didn't hear him approach and Dean managed to get right beside him without drawing attention. He leaned his head over to look at Cas' face and found the blue eyes closed.

"You okay?" He said, and immediately Castiel jumped, eyes snapping open and fixing on Dean.

He let out a breath and rubbed a hand across his face. "Yeah."

"Didn't sleep well?"

"I slept fine."

Dean saw the telltale dark circles under his roommate's eyes and the three single-serve coffee packets laying on the counter and knew he was lying. Cas may be good at withholding information but he was flat out the worst liar ever. "If you need to catch some Z's before the party there's plenty of time."

"The caffeine will kick in soon."

"I hope so. Because if you try to bail on me there will be consequences."

Castiel's lips quirked in a tired smile. "Such as?"

"I'll shave your head." Dean said the first thing that came to mind.

Castiel cocked his head and held back a grin. "You like my hair too much to do that."

"You're right, hair envy was always my biggest flaw."

This time Castiel laughed outright and Dean reached up to muss the wild, black locks. As he let himself be petted, Castiel's gaze softened and he absently raised his hand to the blonde's hair and carded his fingers through it. "Yours is really pretty, though."

The gentle touch gave Dean a strange feeling and he stepped back, clearing his throat and looking away so he couldn't see Castiel's reaction. "Have you had breakfast yet?" He brushed past Cas and opened the cabinet to get a box of cereal. Why were his cheeks burning?

The brunette was quiet for a moment but eventually said, "Coffee's enough for me. Also, we're out of milk."

"What?!" Dean pulled open the refrigerator door to see for himself and his heart sank at the contents- or rather lack thereof. "Aw..." He pouted and let the door swing shut on its own. "I guess that means we have to go shopping again. What the hell did you even buy last time?"

"Other things. And I thought it would last longer than that anyway."

"In case you haven't noticed by now, I love milk. It keeps my bones strong. And my teeth. And it's awesome."

"Then you can pay for it."

"Cruelty." Dean gasped, feigning horror.

 ...

They got ready for the public eye and anxiousness rose up when Dean grabbed his keys, preparing himself for the impending choice Cas was going to make. Either admitting to the scratch or hiding it. Dean found himself hoping that it didn't get brought up. But there was no escape.

As they made their way down a flight of stairs and into the blinding sunlight, he discreetly evaluated Castiel's behaviour for any hint that gave away which direction he'd chosen to take. Aside from the crease in his brow, the brunette was as unreadable as ever. But when they got close enough to spot the Impala among the other cars, Castiel seemed to tense. Dean swallowed and repeated in his head, _Don't bring it up, don't bring it up_. Unfortunately, Castiel was deaf to the plea.

They were maybe six feet away when Cas opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again. After hesitating he said, "Dean, there's a scratch..."

"Oh, yeah, I saw that," Dean interrupted the confession, "It must have happened when someone was backing out of the parking lot." He waved dismissively, "It's no big deal."

Castiel didn't try to keep it a secret. He was taking responsibility regardless of the outcome.

The blue gaze widened at the lack of anger and Castiel, who was now apparently determined to come clean about the accident, pressed the issue, "But... But it's _Baby_. Yesterday, I-"

"Cas, don't worry about it. It's just a tiny scratch, I can fix something like this no problem." Dean stopped beside the Impala and smiled confidently.

"You can?" The question was equally doubting and impressed.

Dean laughed through his nose and affectionately ran a hand over the shiny, smooth hood. "Absolutely. Believe it or not, she's had worse." Castiel eyed him suspiciously, so Dean elaborated, "Me and Sam were playing baseball one time and he hit a foul ball. It put a dent right in the door. He was so scared I thought he'd pass out right then. But I took care of that and I can take care of this. It's not a big deal. ...So, don't worry about it."

Castiel's relieved look was brief but Dean caught it and his heart swelled. Part of him wasn't sure if he was glad because Castiel was or because he'd opted to tell the truth.

 

Later, the two stood in line at the grocery store and discussed the use of CGI in horror movies as opposed to the classic gore of older films. This topic earned them several disturbed glances but neither cared.

Then Castiel covered a yawn and Dean, still slightly remorseful over letting him stew in guilt all night, said, "You know, if you'd rather skip the party that's okay. I promise I won't touch your hair."

Blue eyes met green a sarcastic answer followed, "Thanks. I'll just make sure to warn everyone to stay off the roads. Seriously, I'm not letting you drive home drunk."

"I wasn't planning to. Besides, I'm not bringing you as my designated driver anyway."

"How are you getting home otherwise?"

"I always find a way."

"Yeah, a way that involves a pretty girl and you rolling in at noon the next day."

Dean bristled at the disapproving tone. "I don't see the problem."

"Of course you don't."

The blonde tightened his numbing palm around the milk jug's handle and clenched his jaw. There wasn't anything wrong with his party habits. Every teenager was allowed some youthful indiscretion.

Castiel revived the conversation by saying, "I don't want to spend my weekend drunk and hung over anyway."

Dean took a deep breath and stepped up to the counter when the middle-aged customer in front of them took his receipt and left with a not so subtle backwards glare. "When was the last time you let yourself go? That's why there are so many parties in the first place. College students get bogged down with homework and social acceptance and need to cut loose. C'mon, you'll have fun. It'll help wash away the stress of this past week."

Castiel watched Dean pay the cashier and considered. As usual, he gave in to the other boy's wishes, "If I can have fun while staying sober then sure."

"You will have fun. And you will be drinking." Dean turned down the cashier's offer to bag the milk and left his receipt. Castiel followed him out the automatic doors and huffed at his best friend's stubbornness. "Who do you expect to bring us home?"

"Don't worry, I can swing a ride." Dean said over his shoulder, winking.

"How very presumptuous of you."

"I prefer to think of it as self-assurance. No one can deny my killer charm."

"Unfortunately, that's true."

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed rather quickly and the party's kick-off time arrived around dusk. Dean had to remind Cas that it was fashionable to be a few minutes late. Especially if those extra minutes were used to find a shirt that didn't make him look like he was going to a job interview.

Dean ransacked Castiel's closet until he found the perfect one; a deep black with bright blue flames around the bottom. He had some pretty nice stuff, Dean should see about borrowing a few things. The experienced Winchester was clad in a brown T-shirt and with a grey and green striped flannel button-up open over it. His blonde hair was carefully spiked although Cas preferred to go with the natural, messy look.

They climbed in the car and started down the road. All of a sudden, Castiel's phone went off. He scrambled to get it out of his pocket and turned his face toward the window when he answered. "Hello?" There was a pause as the person on the other end spoke. "Sam." Cas brightened and glanced at Dean.

The older Winchester smiled and kept his attention on the road, eavesdropping on this side of the conversation.

"No, I don't mind," The brunette said in a fond voice. It was no secret he thought of Sam like his own little brother. "It is. Thanks for asking," He replied to some inquiry unheard to Dean, "No, it's okay... Oh, when? ...I'll have to ask Dean." Cas caught the green gaze covered the cellphone with his hand, whispering, "He wants to stay with us."

Dean nods once and Castiel smiles and returns to the call, "We're both okay with it. So anytime you want to come over- ...Yeah? Okay, then. ...You, too. Bye." The cellphone shut and disappeared into Castiel's jean pocket. "Sam will be spending the night with us next Friday." He announced, once again turning his gaze to the blur of trees and houses as they sped by, passing street lights dancing across his handsome features.

"Then I guess we'll have to party extra hard tonight while we have the chance." Dean said with a cheeky grin.

This earned him a quick laugh, "I make no promises."

They arrived at Justin's house; a white two story building with cars parked all the way up and down the street and a mob of young people decorating the lawn, overflow from the group inside. Dean managed to zip in behind an departing car and parked. They got out and made their way inside, past the whooping youngsters flocked in the dew covered front yard. Some type of remixed pop music blasted through the house. It would be a miracle if the cops didn't show up at some point; Dean would have to make sure they headed out before then.

He quickly located a table full of drinks and headed toward it, Cas trailing along on his heels. Dean picked up a bottle of spiced rum and bit the inside of his cheek in deliberation. It wasn't his first choice but why not, right?

He had to raise his voice so Cas could hear him, "Do you think this is a good starter or should we hold out for the better stuff?" His gaze flickered over to Castiel's frowning face.

"Look," The blonde sighed, "If it makes you feel better don't drink anything until I get somebody to agree to drive us. Okay?"

Castiel nodded once and looked around the room for a familiar face. Dean, eager to get his drink on, mimicked the search until he spotted a guy they'd hung out with before. He remembered the three of them playing several games of poker in which Cas had kicked their asses with his hidden talent as a card shark.

"Garth!" He called out, waving his hand to get the lanky boy's attention. He was spotted and motioned for the other boy to come over to where they were standing.

Garth made his way across the room, friendly smile on his face. Dean knew it was a safe bet because this little teen was adamant on staying sober. The last time they'd run into each other- which was the last party they had both attended- Garth declined sharing a bottle of vodka with him. Apparently he didn't enjoy the alcoholic haze like Dean did.

"Heya, Dean. Cas." He nodded to both of them and Castiel returned his greeting with a polite 'hey'. Dean put his arm around Garth's bony shoulders and grinned.

"It's been a while, we should hang out more."

"Definitely." Garth had a subtle southern lilt to his speech that most people found endearing.

"You wanna do me a favor?" Dean got straight to the point, counting on the other's niceness to be their ticket home.

"What favor?"

"Cas and I are gonna get blind drunk and we'll be needing a ride back to our apartment. Would that be too much trouble?"

Garth tugged a strand of short brown hair and caved under the persuading green gaze, "I can do it. No problem."

"Great, thanks!"

"If that's all you wanted, I was making some progress with a blonde fox." Dean released him and he started to walk away. Then, pausing, said, "How about getting together Tuesday? You free then?"

Dean nodded. "Just make sure you bring a deck of cards."

"All right-y, but I'm not makin' cash bets like last time."

"Hey, how else are we supposed to make rent money?"

Garth flashed a toothy grin and disappeared into the sea of faces. Dean then turned on Castiel and said, "There you go, problem solved. Now pick your poison." He returned to surveying the selection of liquids as the brunette, still reluctant to imbibe any substantially impairing, pursed his lips and looked on.

"We shouldn't be monopolizing the drink table like this, should we?" Castiel asked, running a finger along the pressed wood surface.

"Getting drunk is literally the only reason we're here." Dean said, deciding on good old-fashioned beer. He filled two red plastic cups to the brim and handed one to Cas, bringing the other to his lips and taking a large gulp. "Well, that and maybe hook up. "He added, elbowing Castiel, whose beer spilled at the jostle.

"Right..." The brunette wasn't paying attention, instead wincing over the puddle of liquor at his feet.

"See anything you like?"

"Huh?" The question brought Castiel's attention back to Dean. This was one of the times when the piercing blue gaze succeeded in making Dean feel awkward.

"Girls. Do you see any cute girls?"

Before Cas could answer, a girl with long crimson hair and porn-worthy features approached them. She directed a cattish smile toward Dean, "Hey, I'm Abaddon."

Dean struggles to hear her above the music, " _Amazon_? Like the website?"

Beside him, Castiel snickers into his cup and the girl rolls her eyes and struts away. She no doubt thought he was being an ass.

Dean smacks his best friend on the arm and says, "Why'd you do that?"

"I didn't do anything! Besides, she looks incredibly high maintenance. You dodged a bullet."

"Oh, believe me, I can handle red-heads!"

"Was the girl you had over a red-head?"

Dean wasn't following. "What girl?"

"The one you invited over without asking first."

" _Oh_ ," Dean made the connection and said without thinking, "There was no girl." He took another swig of beer and watched as a guy wearing thick glasses set down a paper bag and started pulling assorted bottles out of it, each one a different brand of alcohol.

"What?"

"No girl." Dean repeated as glasses boy left, "Just me, myself, and I." He grinned foolishly, raising his right hand and wiggling his fingers. He knew he should feel stupid for it but he didn't care. There was an array of mind-freeing drinks at his disposal and he intended to try each and every one of them. He could feel stupid tomorrow.

Cas wore a look of genuine surprise. "Oh." Was all he said.

Then, as if the talk of red-haired girls summoned her, Jo appeared with her ginger girlfriend in tow. "Hey, I see you met Abby." She smiled, gesturing to the curvy girl that was now batting her eyes at a some bearded jock.

"Not so much." Dean admitted, draining his cup empty. "I didn't expect to run into you here."

"Hey, I have friends, too. _And_ ," Jo smiled at the boys and squeezed her girlfriend's hand. "I'd like to introduce you two to Charlie. She's my better half."

"Definitely the kinkier half, not sure about the 'better' part, though." Charlie said, sticking out her free hand to first Cas and then Dean. She had a smaller grip but it was by no means weak. "So you guys know each other how exactly?"

"Dean's a regular patron at the music store and Cas is his roomie." The blonde felt a little odd about having Castiel introduced simply as his roommate, but he didn't bother to clarify.

He picked up the nearest bottle and two more cups. "You ladies want a drink?"

"Hell yeah." Charlie was quick to accept and the other three laughed.

 

They stood in the corner for the next two hours, greeting other friends and tossing back drink after drink as the night went on, becoming less inhibited as each one passed into various stages of drunkenness. The conversation topics had gone from odd to ridiculous and Castiel was currently embarrassing the shit out of Dean by telling stories of their childhood.

"S-So lemme get this straight," Charlie fought to speak through violent giggles, "You were laying beside the bed with sock puppets on both hands?"

Dean shook his head fiercely at the same time Castiel answered, "Yes! He was even doing voices! I swear it was th' funniest thing I've ever seen." Although he was only a couple of drinks behind Dean, the brunette spoke more clearly than any of them; however he, too, was overcome with laughter.

"'S'cause Sammy was sick! I was jus' doin' the big brother thing!" Dean's tone was defensive and he glared at Jo's lip-biting attempt at hiding her amusement.

From his right, Cas gave him a clumsy pat on the head- a sure sign that he was more drunk than he appeared to be- and said, "It was very sweet. But I will never be able to un-see you putting on a solo puppet performance while imitating Andre the Giant."

"Glad I could make'n impression." Dean crossed his arms, but almost immediately lost his balance, and had to brace himself against the table. Cas started to reach out to help him, but when Dean managed to right himself, the brunette let his hands return to his sides. He and Jo shared a look and she said, "He's not gonna be driving, is he?"

"No way." Cas stated firmly.

By this time, Garth was still out of sight and Dean was no longer able to think clearly. In fact, at the moment his only objectives were to keep his feet on the floor and a drink in his hand. He threw back a shot of something he didn't even know the name of and cherished the burn in his throat as it went down.

Castiel saw Dean down another drink and said, "Don't you think that's enough?"

"Nooooo, I know m...y limits." As he said this, Dean's foot slipped and he started to tumble backwards.

Suddenly a pair of hands appeared at his back and steadied him. "Whoa, there." Dean recognized the voice. "I think Cas is right... You've had plenty."

"Aw, Garth-y, don' be a killjoy now." The blonde brightened at the appearance of the other boy. Dean got clingy when he was drunk and, right on cue, draped himself over the shorter man in a hug. "You're susha good friend." He said in an unusually high voice. Emotions kicked up unexpectedly. "Thanks, man." He sniffed and Garth awkwardly hugged him back.

"I think it's time for you to call it a night." The drawl in his ear was tinged with humor. Garth had never been exposed to Dean's behaviour under the influence and it was... very different from the norm.

Dean looked up to see Castiel scowling at them and removed himself from the brown-haired boy. He put a hand on the table for balance and picked up another drink, holding it out to his unhappy childhood friend. "Have this." He said, "You need to be more drunk." Dean swayed on his feet and Castiel obediently accepted and consumed the liquid. He slammed down the empty glass and stopped Dean's reach for another.

"We're done."

"Nooo-"

"Yeah." Castiel cut off the blonde's whine and put a hand on his arm. "You're gonna overdo it. No, you _did_ overdo it."

Shining green eyes flashed to Castiel's face and Dean stared at him. His best friend was so protective.

He practically collapsed against the brunette, once again swept away by sentimentality. "Why're you so good?" He clung on to the other boy and knew he was being weird; but since he wasn't the only one currently affected by alcohol he could get away with it. Dean's cheek rested against the soft black shirt and he could feel the firmness of Castiel's chest beneath it, curiousity making him want to run his hands down the length of his torso and venture under the piece of clothing to inspect further.

But before Dean could do any of that, Garth was winding an arm around him and Castiel adjusted himself until they were on opposite sides of Dean, practically carrying him out to Garth's run-down truck. Dean swung his head around, looking for Jo or Charlie. "Bye, girls!" He shouted, not really knowing if they heard him or not.

The two more capable boys loaded Dean into the backseat in the cab of the truck and sat up front. All Dean was aware of during the ride was the bounce as they moved along, the low growling of the engine, and Cas' dark head over the back of the seat. Dean felt the hints of nausea as his stomach tossed with the truck's vibration. He slid down against worn leather and stared at Castiel to keep the sick feeling at bay. It helped to focus on something.

The brunette still had good posture even after all that... He couldn't have that high of a tolerance which meant he was hiding the signs of being drunk.

Dean just always thought 'why bother' and let it all go. Another example of how different they were.

But to be honest, if Dean had a camera in his hand right this second, he would take a picture of Castiel, turned around in his seat with darkened blue eyes, to keep in a secret folder of his own.

He faintly heard Garth say something and Castiel opened the passenger door and stepped down. Only then did Dean realize the engine had stopped running and they must be at the apartment.

Garth helped get Dean out and as soon as his feet hit the pavement, the blonde shook him off, saying, "I can walk'n my own."

Castiel wasn't as easy to dissuade. He maintained a loose hold around Dean's waist and nodded to the slim brown-haired boy, "I got it from here. Thanks."

"Sure thing. I'll see you Tuesday, then. 'Night." The truck door opened shut and the engine began growling again.

Dean yawned. He put some strength back into his legs and let Cas guide him to the apartment building door. It was always unlocked so they slipped inside, the flight of stairs being the only daunting obstacle between them and the comfort of their own beds.

They made it up with surprisingly little difficulty and stopped outside their apartment so Castiel could dig in his pockets for the key. Sense of balance more intact, he continued to hold Dean upright as he unlocked the door. Once open, they both stumbled inside the dark apartment, not bothering to turn the lights on as it's after two in the morning and they should get to sleep anyway.

Dean can tell Castiel is slightly tipsy now that he's had more time for the drinks to kick in when he closes the door behind them and doesn't immediately proceed into the room. The slightly taller boy leans against him and it seems they are both using the other to stay upright.

"Take your shoes off." Cas reminds him, the scent of alcohol heavy on his breath.

Dean clings to his sleeve and feels ironically defiant. "Why? We have a wooden floor. S'not like we can't sweep." He can just barely make out frown in the dark room, aided only by the light outside their closed blinds.

"And I'd be the one sweeping. I always get left with the work."

The truth in that sentence stirs up a new rush of guilt and Dean slurs, "S' _much_ as I wish 'at wasn't true. Sorry, I'll help... jus' ask." He shook his head, making it swim as a result.

Blue eyes held green for a few beats, but Cas turned his face away from the half-lidded gaze. "I don' mind." He said.

Now lacking the coordination to do anything but cling onto his best friend's shirt for dear life, Dean sways and is forced to lower his forehead to Castiel's shoulder since he would be compelled to drop to the floor otherwise. His eyes are shut tightly, trying to recover. "Sorry." He repeats, his own voice sounding distant to his ears.

As he straightens up, lifting his head at the same time the other's turns, their noses brush and Dean can feel warm breath that isn't his own ghost across his lips.

Their mouths slowly find each other in the dark, melting together in tentative contact.

At first, it's only a soft brush of lips, but upon finding no objection, the explorative act slowly escalated. The inebriated Winchester's mind was wrapped in fog, safely shutting out any conflictions he should be having right now.

A sudden urgency in Castiel's advancement made the kiss a little more sloppy. Dean could feel an occasional scrape of teeth and the other boy's nose bumped his but he didn't mind. He didn't even notice the exact moment that Castiel's tongue slipped into his mouth. All he knew was that suddenly it was there, pushing against his like it was taunting his residual reluctance.

Dean finds himself surrendering and is pushed up to the door as Cas moves to frame him with both arms. He is still hanging onto the black shirt, completely unaware of the fact that he's pulling the brunette closer.

Dean angles his head so Cas can deepen the kiss, unconsiously going with the flow. Their mouths work together in a desperate, audible hunger. Castiel takes pause to tug at Dean's bottom lip with his teeth and at the blonde's subsequent moan brings him back to the kiss with renewed ardency.

His hands are on Dean then, traveling along his upper body, groping gently over his clothes. The top layer is easily brushed aside and the hem of Dean's T-shirt is lifted up, exposing his skin to the cool air as those hands ease into his clothing. He shivers when Castiel's skin meets his own and the contact feels electric. The warm touch journeys all the way from his stomach to the other opening in his shirt, long fingers peeking over the collar to caress Dean's neck before sliding back down again.

Light palms run over hardened nipples and Dean moans again at the sensation. Cas' fingertips dance across his abdomen and inch by inch make their way up to the twin nubs, rolling them teasingly. Incredible heat rushes to Dean's cock and alarms go off in his brain.

He breaks the kiss and presses his cheek against the door, panting. Castiel merely adapts to the loss by kissing a path down to Dean's throat, sucking and licking the sensitive skin. Dean's ragged breathing is the only sound in the room and stutters when Castiel full-on pinches his nipples.

Dean doesn't have a problem with any of this; actually he's enjoying it. But the unrelenting voice of reason tells him it isn't good. That if he lets this go any further, when he wakes up tomorrow he'll regret it. That it's only happening because they are drunk and- in his case, at least- horny.

And as difficult as it is, he forces himself to say, "Cas... stop." The brunette doesn't obey immediately, now nibbling on Dean's ear.

But when Dean resists Castiel moves back, putting some distance between them.

Dean's hands drop to his sides and he finds himself fighting to stay upright without the other's help. The strange pull of drunken-gravity has him laying hard against the door, feeling as if the whole world is turning over on its side. "I don' feel so good." He groans, closing his eyes only to find that made it worse.

"Sorry... so sorry." Castiel was shaking his head now, one hand covering half his face, "'m drunk. I-"

"'t's not you, Cas. I'm... I jus'... so dizzy..." Fire seared the blonde's veins and he regretted that last drink. Hell, he regretted the first.

"Dean?" The concerned voice floated to the back of his mind and Dean slid down the door to the floor, slumping over once he was there.

"Nnn... can't... So hot. Make th' world stop spinning." The sickened Winchester's eyes were clamped shut now despite the worsening effect, and every breath came out as a whine. Here it was. Here was the drawback from getting so staggeringly drunk. It had been a while since he let it go this far.

There was a thump as Castiel dropped heavily to his knees beside Dean. He pulled the blonde into an embrace and held him, stroking his hair softly. "Shh, sh. S'okay... 't's okay." He chanted lowly, his deep tone comforting.

The swirling world behind Dean's lashes calmed into darkness and the sick feeling faded as he concentrated only on Castiel. The heat claiming his body was nothing compared to the warmth radiating from his roommate's, but it was a reassuring combination.

Sitting like that, with his face buried in Castiel's chest, Dean kind of wants to kiss him again. Why, he isn't sure. In gratitude, or as a result of the closeness, or maybe just because he's _there_.

But, he doesn't move, he can't find the strength to move.

So instead he stays there, listening to loud breaths and reassuring whispers, until the cloud over his mind becomes a fevered sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~After Story Comments With ImpassionedWriter
> 
> Me: "...I have no words."  
> Me: *is embarrassed*  
> Me: "I have only recently begun to explore the world of explicit love-making (or smut). Forgive me, I am adjusting to the temperature of the water. Soon, hopefully, I will be able to dive right in."  
> Dean and Castiel: "Please, don't."  
> Me: "Silence, mortals."  
> Castiel: *raises eyebrow*  
> Me: "Don't you sass me."  
> Dean: *is aroused by Castiel's dom eyebrow*


End file.
